


Color Me With Love

by milou407



Series: Color Me [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystrade fluff, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, soul colors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milou407/pseuds/milou407
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Above all, hovered Caring Is Not an Advantage, still the most important rule, which constantly reminded Mycroft to keep his distance, lest he lose his heart unwittingly. </p><p>(Even if he knew it might already be too late.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Color Me With Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EventHorizon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/gifts).



> This work was won by EventHorizon in the Rupert Graves auction, so they are completely to blame for this. I started out trying to write only 2k words, I swear.

When he was a child, Gregory Lestrade's parents attempted to impress upon him how overrated soul mates were. Their marriage was just fine, they loved each other very much and they weren't soul mates, they said. So, Greg grew up with a healthy respect for love that didn't depend on the permanent color brands which were revered by so many. 

 

Of course, this was also before his dad found his soul mate.

 

Sharon was very nice to him, but he could never forgive her for making his mum unhappy, even after Dad had moved out.  His dad had tried to explain it to him, how he loved his mum, but Sharon was his soul mate and that went far beyond anything else, but Greg just couldn't understand. So he stayed with his mum, and they proved that they didn't need anyone else, they were just fine being the two of them. From the time he was eight until he left to join the force, Greg knew that soul mate love was not the only kind of love in the world, and he was determined to be happy, even if he never found his soul mate. He had marks from his mum and his friends, at that's all he really needed. Love is love, after all.

 

\-------

 

Mycroft Holmes' parents were not precisely model examples of soul mate relations. Although they each had the other's permanent mark on their hand, it was not enough for their relationship to flourish. Petty bickering had turned into stony silence over years, and eventually Mycroft was left alone in the massive manor with a nanny and his baby brother. Jealousy and arrogance had eaten away at their relationship, Father's pride and Mother's spite keeping them from reconciling. At the time of their death, neither had spoken kindly to the other outside of social niceties in years.

 

Then they were dead, and Mycroft felt so alone.

 

Sherlock was only eleven, and Mycroft was eighteen, but they now had no parents. After the funeral, once Sherlock was asleep, Mycroft went into his father's study and sat at the enormous desk. His father's most important lesson had been impressed upon him over the years and now came to him again,

 

" _Caring Is Not an Advantage"._

 

If having a soul mate left you vulnerable and open, it was something he could not afford. He would be going back to University in a week, and measures would have to be taken to ensure that even if he met his soul mate, there was no way he would be able to know. He would never be able to have marks, after the ones Sherlock and his parents had left faded. Violet and rose and charcoal, these were the last marks he would ever have.

 

Mycroft stood and walked from the study briskly, finding his way to Sherlock's room. He opened the door and crossed to Sherlock's bed, sitting on the edge and waking Sherlock with the movement.

 

"Mycroft? What are you doing?"

 

Mycroft didn't answer and instead pulled Sherlock into a tight hug which, he was sure Sherlock would have refused had it been any other time or place. Once he pulled back, he placed his hands on either side of Sherlock's face and looked at him closely, committing his brother's pale face and wide, trusting eyes to memory. Pulling back, he saw his own silver marks on Sherlock's cheeks and brought his brother's hands to land on his arms. Once he was certain the violet stains would last for a few days, he stood up, tucked Sherlock back in, and left the room.

 

He wanted to make sure his brother's marks would be bright on his skin, because he was certain they would be the last ones he would ever have.

 

\-------

 

When Greg was 24, he met Claudia, and he was certain the ground fell out from under him. She was a brand new social worker who had been called in for a case he was working, and he fell head over heels immediately. She was gorgeous, with red hair and laughing green eyes, incredibly smart, and had a wicked sense of humor. And for some reason she said yes when he asked her to dinner.

 

When their hands brushed, it was clear they weren't soul mates, but that didn't bother either of them much. Claudia had made it very clear that she thought soul mates were only fairytales told to children. Greg couldn't help feeling a twinge of regret that they weren't destined to be, but pushed it away as he dove headfirst into their new relationship. She understood his long hours, even if she didn't like it, and he knew that the kids she worked for would always be a priority. They fit well together, and when he bought a ring and she said yes, Greg had honestly thought that this was his forever. Until James.

 

Mother _fucking_ James.

 

Greg had figured something was wrong, Claudia had been acting strange for days. But it wasn't until she showed him the bright cobalt blue mark from when James had caught her as she fell that he understood.

 

(James _caught her as she fell_. How terrible was that?)

 

"Greg, I'm so sorry," Claudia said, almost in tears as he sat numbly on their couch in their apartment, "But what am I supposed to do? I love you but he's my soul mate. I can't not love him."

 

Greg stood up, walked out, and went to spend the weekend at his mother's while she moved her stuff out of their home. When he got back, it was empty and echoing, eerily similar to how he felt, an easily remembered feeling from his childhood.  The next day he got up and went to work, because the world did keep turning even if he was the unluckiest son of a bitch in the universe.

 

\------

 

The first time Mycroft met Inspector Lestrade, his little brother was in the hospital being treated for a cocaine overdose. The inspector was asleep in the chair by Sherlock's bed, but jerked awake once he heard Mycroft enter.

 

"Hello, you must be the brother. I'm D.I. Greg Lestrade, Sherlock has worked with me on a few cases. I'm the one who found him, thankfully," Lestrade extended his hand and Mycroft shook it with his gloved one.

 

"Good day Inspector, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Yes, I'm Mycroft Holmes, and I must thank you for checking up on my brother, your help has been invaluable."

 

"No trouble, the berk has actually been rather helpful on cases. I've taken a liking to him against my own judgment, even my sergeant thinks I'm crazy. He's a good kid, even if he'll be offended that I found him in such a fucked up mess."

 

Mycroft hid a small smile at the accurate description of what would most likely be his brother's reaction on learning who had been the one to find him in his helpless state. Since his _incident_ with Victor Trevor, Sherlock had been improving slowly, but this episode would put them back several months. It would likely be time for another visit to a rehabilitation facility.

 

"No doubt he will be much less appreciative of your help than he should be, especially since he will now be cut off from his access to NSY. I'm sorry for any inconvenience this has caused you, Inspector, but rest assured he will be taken care of."

 

"I'm glad he's getting help, he really does a phenomenal job on cases. Make sure to tell him that once he's clean I'll have some cold cases saved for him. I've got to run, I'm supposed to be in my office, but it was nice to meet you Mycroft, and I'm sure I'll see you soon. "

 

Mycroft watched as the D.I. walked out of the room, pensive. Gregory Lestrade was a good man to have on his brother's side, and would certainly be an asset in the future. It would be prudent to keep him on their side.

 

"Is he gone?"

 

Mycroft sighed and turned back to the hospital bed, where Sherlock had not yet opened his eyes, unwilling to fully reveal his sham.

 

"Yes, Sherlock, he left. You can stop pretending to sleep now."

 

Sherlock's eyes opened, cool and grey in the hospital lighting. His gaze narrowed on Mycroft and he scowled.

 

"I assume you're going to ship me off to some useless rehabilitation facility where numerous doctors will want to talk about my _feelings_ , as if they pertain in any way to my addiction."

 

Mycroft sighed, "Yes, Sherlock, you will be going to a facility. A highly rated one, I might add. Let us hope that this stay will be your last. Your pet detective will want you back soon, I'm sure."

 

"He's not my pet. No pet of mine would be so badly trained. He is helpful, however."

 

"I'm glad you get along. I'm sure I won't have to interfere on your behalf any longer, since you will behave after you return from your rehabilitation, won't you?"

 

Sherlock huffed and turned his face away, a clear dismissal that Mycroft was happy to accept. He was pleased to see that Victor's marks were almost completely faded, maybe that would make this recovery more permanent than the last. As Mycroft left Sherlock to the solitude he clearly wanted, he was already creating plans for Sherlock's transportation to the rehabilitation facility. Thoughts of a certain Detective Inspector were surely not on his mind at the moment.

 

Certainly not.

 

\------

As it turned out, that first meeting was not the last Mycroft was to see of the new D.I. Over the next eight months, visits to crime scenes or to NSY when Sherlock was getting particularly out of control ended in lingering conversations which turned into invitations for a drink or coffee, some of which Mycroft even accepted (to gather information, naturally). Eventually, D.I. Lestrade became Gregory, who eventually became a constant presence in the back of Mycroft's mind. They continued meeting for coffee and reconnaissance even after the arrival of Dr. John Watson reduced the need for such strategizing.  Above all, however, hovered _Caring Is Not an Advantage_ , still the most important rule, which constantly reminded Mycroft to keep his distance, lest he lose his heart unwittingly.

 

(Even if he knew it might already be too late.)

 

\------

 

"Greg! Hey, over here!"

 

Shrugging off his coat and feeling the warmth of the pub envelop him, Greg nodded towards the bar, where John was waiting with two pints. Half of his attention was still on the game playing on the television, but he was paying enough attention when Greg sat down to slide one of the pints towards him.

 

"Cheers," Greg toasted him and took a long pull of his drink, "It's been a long day."

 

John grimaced, "Shit case?"

 

"Nah, just lots of paperwork and then got caught up in a ton of meetings. One of which I wasn't even aware of until I was pulled into it."

 

"Your boss?"

 

"No, Mycroft Holmes, actually. Usually he texts me beforehand, so we can grab coffee or sometimes dinner, but this time one of his cars just pulled up at the curb," he took another long drink, "I really hate it when he does that."

 

Hiding a smile in his beer, John said, "Well, that's probably a Holmes family trait. They're absolute tossers, but for some reason you love them anyway."

 

"Yeah, I do." Greg didn't even realize he had said anything that wasn't normal until John turned to face him and stared like he'd grown another head. "What?"

 

"You love them? Or it must be 'him' rather, your Mycroft, because we all know how you feel about Sherlock," John's grin was crooked and he absolutely should not look so pleased, "How long has this been going on for then?"

 

"What?" He was like a broken record.

 

"The little coffee dates and dinners? Has he been wooing you secretly for months? This is _fantastic!_ " John looked positively giddy now. What a prick.

 

"No! No. Listen, it's nothing like that. We're friends, sure, and we have a good working relationship, but there's nothing romantic. Or anything remotely like a romantic relationship. And I'm not the only one with dinner dates! How long have you and Sherlock been not-shagging? How many months have you spent sadly pining?"

 

"Hey, listen you twat. We're not talking about my sad pining right now, alright? We're talking about _your_ sad pining, because that's going to make me feel loads better. So, does he know you love him, or is he just oblivious?"

 

Greg let out a sigh, it was very clear that he wasn't going to get out of this easily. "I don't know if he knows. I can never tell with him. I could tell you his favorite tea, color, and football team, but I never know what's going on in his head. He could be tolerating me, or he could feel the same way; I honestly have no idea. The only thing..." He stopped for a second to gather his thoughts, fiddling with his glass, "My never touches me. Not once since this whole thing started. Even if we're both wearing coats and gloves, he's never brushed against me or anything like that. "

 

John frowned, "But he's like that with everyone. He's never touched me since I've known him, and I don't think I've ever seen him and Sherlock touch either."

 

"I know, I just..." Greg gave up and dropped his head to the bar, "I thought I was different," He mumbled, his voice muffled.

 

"I know, mate," John patted his back consolingly before going back to his drink. "We all wish we were different."

 

And if they ended up drinking a bit more than usual, well, neither of them was going to tell anyone.  

 

\-------

 

It had all started like a regular Monday for Mycroft, he had negotiated a nuclear weapons treaty before lunch and was planning on beginning a civil war over tea. This was before he got the call about the kidnapping  and hostage situation which was currently being perpetrated at NSY, and his blood ran cold. Already striding out of his office to a waiting car, he barked at Anthea for the relevant information about the leaders of the operation and who was currently being held hostage in the building.

 

"Your brother and Dr. Watson had left just before the men entered the building, they're believed to be safe in 221B at the moment. The men orchestrating the crime are believed to be part of an underground terrorist network that was deemed a low threat. Whoever named it such is currently being relieved of their position in this office."

 

"Good," he almost growled, before regaining his composure, "And the hostages? How many are in danger?"

 

"Many of the officers were out on patrol, and the Commissioner was out to lunch, but there are three Sergeants and a D.I. who are currently being held hostage.  Emmett, Donovan, Brooks, and-"

 

"Lestrade?"

 

"...Yes sir. A tactical team is already infiltrating the building, we're past negotiation now, they're going in with orders to neutralize the threats while keeping the hostages safe."

 

"Alright. You'll tell me when I'm clear to enter the building."

 

"Sir..."

 

"Anthea," he turned and pinned her with his ice blue gaze, "You _will_ tell me when I can enter the building, because if you don't, I will find someone who will."

 

Even after this she still appeared completely impassive, "Yes sir."

 

Once the word was given, Mycroft quickly exited the car and entered the building, checking to make sure the team hadn't missed anyone who was still dangerous. As he entered the bullpen, Mycroft saw Gregory sitting against a desk in his undershirt, a hand pressed to his still bleeding thigh.

 

"Gregory..." Mycroft hurried over and knelt before him, uncertain as to what to do to help him. His Gregory looked up at him with a bleary smile.

 

"Hey there My. What're you doing here? You're not a member of the enforcement team."

 

"No, I came over as soon as I heard you were in danger. Were you shot? An ambulance is on its way, but how can I help now?"

 

"I just need to put pressure on this, it's alright, I've been shot before. I'll just keep pressure on it, and I'll be- _what are you doing?_ "

 

"I'm going to make a tourniquet, keep still. Are you feeling dizzy or nauseous?" Mycroft unbuttoned his shirt and tore off the arm, tying it around Gregory's leg in a poor approximation of a tourniquet, but it would have to do for now. He examined Gregory's face, he was going rather pale. When would the _damn_ ambulance get here?

 

"I'm okay My. I'll be fine in a minute..." Gregory's words were slurring toward the end, and he lent forward while bracing his right hand on Mycroft's chest in order to stay upright. Mycroft pushed him back upright with a hand on his left shoulder.

 

"Gregory? Are you still conscious? Can you hear me? How many fingers am I- _oh._ "

 

When Mycroft removed his hand from Gregory's shoulder his handprint remained, like a silver brand upon his Gregory's skin.  It was vibrant, large, and undeniably a soul mark.

 

"Pretty..." Gregory was tracing his fingers over his own mark on Mycroft's chest, a large handprint as well, directly over his heart. His was forest green, and Mycroft could swear he could feel the heat of it sinking into his skin, permanently marking him. Mycroft shook his head as the paramedics entered the room, first priority would be getting Gregory to safety, he could have a panic attack about this later.

 

"Sir?" A paramedic spoke to him, breaking Mycroft from his thoughts, "Are you going to ride with him in the ambulance?"

 

"I really don't know if I-"

 

"He has to come!" Even slightly slurred and only partially conscious, Gregory was very adamant. "He's my mate mark! Wait, no. My soul mark, soul mate... That's the one! Come on My, you can't leave me alone." Damn it all, why were the man's eyes so pleading?

 

"Yes, fine, I'm going to ride with him." He tried to ignore the blatant staring at their matching marks, though he did feel a small amount of pride at the way Gregory felt for his hand and kept it in his grasp for the entire ride to the hospital.

 

\-----

 

Gregory was going to be perfectly fine. They had reached the hospital in plenty of time, the wound was kept clean, his tourniquet was effective, and it had ended up being a graze instead of a full puncture wound, so Gregory would heal faster than they had thought. None of this explained, of course, why Mycroft was pacing just outside Gregory's hospital room.

 

It wasn't that he was upset that _Gregory_ was his soul mate; to the contrary, if he could have picked someone to be the other half of his soul, it would have absolutely been his Gregory. He was already in love with the man, having their love be graced by a higher power would have been even better. No, what was worrying was the fact that Mycroft now had a soul mate, and had no idea what to do with him. He couldn't cut Gregory out of his life, that would be cruel to them both and would cause them both massive amounts of unnecessary pain. That's what that was Plan B. Or Plan C. It was not his immediate plan, in any case. He hadn't gotten far in planning yet, hence the pacing.  Hanging over him was the memory of his parents and the mess they had made of their own relationship. How could he enter into a relationship with Gregory knowing that they could fail just as his parents had, and drag each other down? They had showed him that sometimes being together was worse than being alone.  Gregory deserved better than a man who had no idea how to navigate personal matters and who had no role models on which to base his own relationships. Gregory could certainly find someone who would be a better fit as a partner than himself. All of this evidence should have led Mycroft to the conclusion that what was best was to free Gregory from his obligations and remove himself from the situation. However, that seemed like the only idea that Mycroft's brain refused to contemplate.

 

Because while Mycroft was battling absolute panic at having his weakness broadcast to the entire world, he was also trying to manage the most absurd feeling he had ever felt: absolute joy.

 

He was _loved_. Loved by someone whom he loved in return and everything was absolutely fantastic. Everything was wonderful because he loved Gregory and Gregory loved him as well. And once he figured out the stupefying conundrum of how to deal with it, they could be happy and it would all be okay. For now, he would do... nothing. He would let events unfold as they would, and deal with the results later. Yes. This was a good plan.

 

Reentering the hospital room, Mycroft took a seat next to his Gregory (and he could definitely call him _his_ Gregory now, correct? Since they were soul mates?) and waited. Gregory had been sedated, but once he awoke, Mycroft would be there.

 

They had some things to discuss.

 

\------

 

Opening his eyes, Greg blinked a few times before things came back into focus. It took a few more moments for him to remember where he was, and the circumstances which had brought him there. He turned his head and found Mycroft asleep in the chair next to his bed. A smile stretched across his face as he observed the other man while he slept, the worry lines in his face relaxed.

 

After a few minutes, Mycroft's face twitched and he slowly awoke, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

 

"Hey there sunshine, what're you doing here? You should go home."

 

"I should do no such thing," Mycroft leaned forward, all traces of tiredness gone, "How are you feeling, Gregory?"

 

"Alright. My leg hurts like a bitch, but it'll be okay. I've been shot before, it's nothing new. Why are _you_ here, though? If it's just to see me, I'll be very flattered."

 

"I am here to see you. Of course I would be, I am your- well," Mycroft looked away, a bit of pink on his cheeks, "Do you remember when I came in and found you?"

 

"A little, but I was losing a fair amount of blood, so it's all a bit fuzzy. I remember you tying your shirt as a tourniquet on my leg-very nice by the way, very James Bond-and then going dizzy, falling a bit and-wait."

 

Greg pulled back the sleeve on his hospital gown to find a silver, almost glittering, handprint on his arm, vibrant and massive.

 

"No way." He ran his fingers over his new soul mate mark, almost surprised when it didn't rub off on his fingers. This was nearly too good to be true. He looked up at Mycroft, who was watching him investigate his mark. "Let's see yours, then."

 

Mycroft gave him a crooked smile as he unbuttoned the top few buttons and pulled his collar away to reveal a forest green handprint, right over where his heart would be. It made Greg's own heart skip a beat, seeing that very obvious brand, clearly marking My as his. He met Mycroft's eyes again and saw the love he knew must be present in his own face reflected there.

 

"So," he said, settling back into his pillows, "I suppose we should probably talk about this."

 

My's face darkened and he sat back, visibly pulling himself back together. "Yes, we should. Gregory, I really should warn you-"

 

"About what? How you get if someone messes with your tea? How you're really not a morning person? Believe me, My, I already know."

 

"No, Gregory, this is serious. Our... association made you a person of interest before, but now you have a literal target painted on you. Some very dangerous people are going to see you as an easy target and it's going to put you at a very high risk. I would understand if you no longer want to see me after this, for your safety, and I completely support that. And... I don't know how successful of a partner I can be to you. I have no idea how to have a successful relationship, and I fear that I won't be what you deserve."

 

Greg could only stare, "My, are you-are you trying to get rid of me?"

 

"No!" Mycroft jumped forward and grabbed Greg's hand, "No, my dear Gregory, I would never do such a thing. But this is going to be a liability. We're both going to be infinitely more vulnerable if we choose to do this. I want you to know all the risks before we become involved, because it won't be easy."

 

"Easy? My, I'm a copper. I deal with murderers and insane people, and I literally just was in a hostage situation. I know this won't be easy, but nothing worth doing is ever easy. And just so you know..." Greg wiggled his eyebrows ridiculously, "You're definitely worth doing."

 

"Gregory, please be serious," But Mycroft was clearly trying to hide a smile he couldn't control.

 

"I am being serious. My, I love you. I have loved you, and even without this mark, I would want to spend my life with you. Whoever it is that made you think you can't have successful relationships was wrong. You and me, we're going to make this work. It's going to take effort, yeah, but it's gonna be _worth it._ Nothing worth doing was ever easy. We're going to fight, obviously, but we're going to work past it _together._ I've been in love with you for months. Dangerous situations or no, nothing is going to change that so I'm afraid you're stuck with me. If you want to be, that is."

 

"I do. Oh Gregory, I so want that. I love you too, my dear, and I have for a painfully long time." Mycroft lent forward until their foreheads were pressed together and breathed in, "I promise I will keep you safe, nothing will ever harm you again. I'm going to try my best to be the man that you deserve, and I'll work to be worthy of you for the rest of my life.  I will always make sure you know I love you, everyday from now until forever."

 

"My."

 

"Hm?"

 

"If you don't kiss me now, I'm going to smack you."

 

Mycroft huffed a laugh and pressed their lips together. It was the lightest, sweetest kiss that Greg had ever had, and it ended all too early. Greg may or may not have let out a small whine when it ended, causing Mycroft to smile cheekily.

 

"Now, get some rest, dear. You were just shot, after all."

 

"Come on, My. Just one more."

 

"Oh well, alright then. Just one."

 

One turned into two, then three, until Greg was almost falling asleep on Mycroft.

 

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

 

"Yes, Gregory. I will be here."

 

Greg fell asleep with a smile on his face, the happiest he had been in years. Nothing was going to take Mycroft away from him, and nothing could drag him away from My. Soul marks or not, this was the man he was supposed to be with.

 

\------

 

Mycroft leant back in his chair and watched over again as his- partner? Boyfriend? Another conversation they would have to have- his Gregory fell asleep. They would survive. He would do all that he could to keep his Gregory safe, and they would always work to keep their bond strong. Although this might have not been how he would have preferred to find out they were soul mates, he certainly couldn't deny the results.

 

He had the mark over his heart to prove it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Much thanks to my beta reader, Duke307.  
> Much love <3


End file.
